


Special Talents?

by Vexicle



Series: Smooth Flying! Safe Travels! [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Drabbles, Fluff, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-04-29 02:17:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14462841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vexicle/pseuds/Vexicle





	1. Chapter 1

When Aquilo shuts his locker door, there’s a certain someone behind it.

“Oh, hello,” he says, turning away. Startles. Looks back. “Francis?!”

Brilliant green eyes blink once, then twice. “Oh, so this is where your locker is?” Francis asks, that bright aura of his usual enthusiasm shimmering around him. Or at least, Aquilo assumes it’s normal for him - he's seen him about twice now, and every time the brunet adopts the attitude of a little puppy wagging its tail.

Aquilo looks at the other boy, at a loss of what to do and how to react. “...yes?” 

“Woah, cool, my locker’s just like, over there -” Francis turns and points at one about five lockers away. Aquilo squirms, hugging his books. Some schoolmates brush against him. His schoolbag is heavy. “And so this is a great coincidence and I kinda want to ask you what class are you in?”

“...one oh six?” Aquilo wonders where Francis’s scruffy-haired best friend is. Now that he really thinks about it, he doesn't have any idea how the quiet and unassuming Taro even puts up with him, or maybe it's just Aquilo himself who needs to change? Aquilo hasn’t felt quite this awkward ever, wringing his hands together and waiting for Francis to finish his run-on sentence.

“- and we should all hang out together sometime!”

“I… uh…” Aquilo hesitantly gestures for Francis to follow him, the cogs in his brain turning and creaking and need oiling, probably. _Isn't it a little weird to hang out now?_

“Soooo, Aquilo, what do you like?” Francis asks, obviously planning something fun and probably also not-fun for poor Aquilo.

“Uhh, I like books.” Aquilo grips said items in his hands even tighter. “And stuff,” he adds lamely, because he doesn't want to seem like some loser to Francis - which is kinda dumb, because Francis is the one regularly talking about anime, so he probably wouldn't judge and… Aquilo’s probably overthinking this. _Why does making friends have to be so hard?_

Aquilo’s mind wanders back to Cherry, her effortless charm, her upfront attitude, cringes at the amount of sharp words he'd hurled at her back in the day, and thinks about how easy _holding a conversation_ would probably be if he weren't terrible at this.

So lost in his thoughts is he that Aquilo doesn't notice he's come to a stop in front of his classroom, nor that Francis has one of his books in his hands and is flipping through it, making a face and ‘hmm’ sounds every so often.

“This is boring,” Francis announces with all the importance of a pilot about to fly his plane. Face burning, Aquilo snatches his book back.

“Why would you read when you can watch?” Francis has his hands on his hips, clicking his tongue.

“I… I didn't say I don’t watch stuff!” Aquilo feels his heart thudding in his chest. _He’sgonnalaughhe’sgonnalaugh gonna - oh fuck, it isn't that bad, right?_

“It's all words and no pictures, no sound. TV’s so much better!”

“I…” Aquilo has half a mind to snap at Francis, but it's not really his fault that Aquilo’s feeling terrible right around now, and he really doesn't know how to respond, so Aquilo just mumbles a “See you later” and scurries away.

“Seeya!” Francis calls, and Aquilo takes brief respite in marvelling at how Francis _still_ seems utterly oblivious.


	2. Chapter 2

Zephyr finds that “So, what else do you like besides music?” seems to be the match that lights the fire of her fellow bandmate.

Dark eyes glimmer. “Oh plenty of stuff, like talking to my friends, hanging out and - actually, I‘d have love to have met you, it's cool that we knew both of them, really, how were they after I was gone?” Another bite of beefburger. “But oh you're here now, and you can tell me everything!”

Zephyr’s back is straight, her hands folded neatly on her lap while Cherry hunches over and gnaws on her (junk) food like a starving dog. The other girl brushes a hand against her hair, specks of food on her cheeks.

“You didn't keep in touch with them?” 

A nod. Another brush of her hand. Zephyr is starting to wonder why Cherry doesn't tie her frizzy dark hair back. Cherry gulps the rest of her burger down, takes a drink, and lets out a loud burp. Zephyr does her best not to frown.

“True, but like, texting isn't really the same as meeting up, right?”

“Yes. Well.” Zephyr watches as Cherry rolls up the wrapping of the burger and throws it into the nearby trash can. “Nice one.”

“Thanks.” Cherry thumps her chest.

“To answer your question,” Zephyr says patiently, “Iggy’s still shy, and Aquilo… well, you've met him, right?”

“Still an old grump?”

Zephyr blinks. “Grump? He's pretty nice.”

“Hang on a sec!” Suddenly, hands grip Zephyr’s shoulders, and she finds herself with an awkward toothy grin on her face. Cherry’s round face is inches from Zephyr’s, her eyebrows furrowed. “You're… you’re telling me… Quilly is _nice_?”

“Qui… Quilly?” Zephyr stammers, equally baffled.

“Whaaaat? Whyyy?” Cherry wails dramatically. She releases Zephyr from her death grip only for both knees to slip off her bench, briefly scrabbling on the table she was leaning over before she remembers she has legs and lowers herself to the ground.

Zephyr sends her own bench screeching, alarmed. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah.” Zephyr can see a smile from underneath the black curtain of Cherry’s hair.

“Let me have a look at that,” Zephyr says, kneeling on the ground beside Cherry. Her eyes frown in concentration, scanning over Cherry’s bare legs. “Where does it hurt?”

“Huh?” Cherry pulls her legs to her chest. “No, it's okay,” she says, voice suddenly small.

“You sure? No scrapes or anything?” Zephyr ignores the curious looks of several students passing by to dump their trash into the bin. “You know, I get a lot of cuts and bruises from playing outside, so I know how this goes. You should wash yourself off just to be sure.”

“I… oh, um.” Cherry nibbles at her lip, her expression suddenly almost shy. “Yes, that’ll be good. Thank you.”

“No problem.” Zephyr moves to help her up, but Cherry stands on her own and strides over to the sink. Zephyr hangs back, watching her wash her wounds, wondering if she should step in, then reasoning that any other teen would probably be able to manage it.

“You play sports?” Cherry asks conversationally.

“Yeah.” Zephyr fidgets, feeling unused to having the attention on her. “Some football with Aquilo. I can do the basics of most stuff though. I like going jogging, it… um, freshens my mind.” She hugs her elbows, looking down at herself.

“Cool.” Another brilliant smile. Cherry carelessly wipes her hands on her pleated skirt. “We can do that together sometime. If you'd like.”

Zephyr resists the urge to nervously fiddle with her fingers even as tension prickles across her skin. If she could admit it to herself, she had always been secretly jealous of this stranger, this person who had been such a close friend of the twins before her, but… _Cherry was here first before me. I shouldn't be rude._

Cherry has her hand out, and Zephyr looks at it, hesitant. For some reason she can't comprehend, her heart is thudding in her chest. _But she's a person, too._ Impulsively, she grabs Cherry’s hand and shakes it. Cherry looks at where their hands meet and bursts out laughing.

“A little formal, right?” Cherry asks, giggling.

Zephyr lets go, embarrassed, but smiles anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

Taro thinks that Francis is really excited, ever since their band formed, and… Taro wrinkles his nose in thought. It still doesn't have a name.

_We’ll come up with one someday, one that sounds right and all._

In the meantime though, he doesn't think he’s seen Francis seem so happy before. He bounces and flaps around as though he’s an excitable little bird.

“Takkun, Takkun! Zephyr-chan has a lot of really nice piano skills and she’s also really cool and sports how does she find the time?! So cool!”

“Takkun, Aquilo’s, like, totally a tsundere, right? Do you think he has a senpai too? I wanna poke him to find out if he’s cute, but then he’d probably bite my finger off and that wouldn’t be good!”

“Hey, hey, Takkun, Takkun, that Iggy-kun really reminds me of you, and he’s cute just like you and… and, ah, but Taro-kun, you’re very special to me too -”

“Are you _seriously_ assigning an honorific to every single one of them?” Taro had interrupted with amusement in his tone.

Smile. “Yeah!” Frown. “No.” Half-grin. “I… guess? Only not Aquilo, cause he’s… he’s kinda scary.”

Taro rolls his eyes affectionately as he takes a sip of the sugary green tea, capping the bottle. “You can call him Aquilo-sama, then. Bet he’ll like it.”

“Yeah! No. Yeah!” Francis slams his palms against the canteen table, green eyes shining. Then they dull a bit as he adds, “B-but, he didn’t seem to want to do anything with me.”

Taro turns around and gently drops the empty bottle into a trash can. “With all due respect, Francis, some people are a little distant. It’s not always the best idea to go around inviting people out after you’ve met them once.”

“Awwww!” Francis pouts and rests his forehead against the table. “Nya,” he randomly adds. It’s something that Taro would have found irritating barely a month ago, but now he just smiles and pets Francis’s broad back comfortingly.

“You can try talking to Cherry,” he suggests, not wanting to bring up the fact that Iggy and Zephyr seemed more the types to agree only out of kindness.

“Ooh yeah that’s a good idea let me go find her now!” Taro blinks and looks down only to find that a certain brunet is now missing.

Oh. Wait. He’s back again, staring at Taro with a bright sunny smile and “Oh Takkun of course you’re invited too see ya!” Gone.

Taro continues smiling after Francis, though he feels... a little twinge. He looks down, before pulling himself to his feet and stumbling slowly back to class.

_An afterthought now, am I?_


	4. Chapter 4

“Come on, Francis, just one more.”

Francis grits his teeth and lowers himself to the ground one more time, squinting his eyes. He feels sweat travel down his back, a sensation he absolutely hates. There’s no getting out of it, however, with the steely icy blue gaze Aquilo is levelling at him.

“Alright, good job,” Aquilo says even though Francis’s arms give up and he rolls onto the pavement with a loud sigh. “Drink up,” the blond adds as he hands Francis his water bottle. With a blink, Francis accepts it. He feels like he hasn’t drank in decades. He eases up into a sitting position and gulps down mouthful after mouthful of water.

“Thank you!”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Aquilo replies, almost apologetically. “After you’ve caught your breath, we’re going jogging around the street.”

Francis swallows and tries not to make the dread on his face so apparent. Aquilo’s already doing him a favor meeting him at eight in the morning to up his training routine. Iggy lives with him, so it’s fine, and everyone else in their newly formed group is very fit. That leaves just him, who’s never gone for a jog in his life if it isn’t part of his PE lessons. Aquilo’s blue sports jacket and shorts are well-worn and slightly stained at the edges, while Francis still hasn’t removed the tag from his outfit.

Francis has to try, though. It simply wouldn’t do to waste Aquilo’s efforts. He’d feel way too guilty. 

So, it’s only with a slight groan that he brings himself to his feet. Aquilo nods and takes Francis’s bottle from him. “You ready?”

“I… think,” he says softly, still trying to stretch his aching arms.

“Okay.” Aquilo guides Francis over to the side of the street, where a cement path spans the length of it, vegetation growing at the edges. “Let’s try avoiding the buildings and stick to the path,” Aquilo says, dragging Francis backwards where he almost skipped right into a middle-aged lady. Sticking his arms out to regain his balance, Francis gives Aquilo a sheepish smile. It’s not his first time getting too carried away with his hyperactivity. Really, for how much he skips and jumps and runs he’s surprised he’s still this terrible at stamina. 

“On the count of three, we’ll run together. You start, I’ll be right beside you, okay?” When Francis nods, he gets a brief smile in return. It doesn’t really qualify as a brilliant beam of light or anything, but Francis likes the thought that Aquilo’s enjoying this to some degree. Or maybe he’s trying to encourage Francis? The blond teen isn’t so scary after all, either way. So, Francis smiles back at him.

The brunet feels a clap on his back. “One, two, three.” And then Francis forces his uncooperative legs to move and then he’s running. 

It feels different when he’s not frolicking around his living room out of boredom. It’s like he’s running for a purpose and for some reason now his boundless energy has left him. Sweat trickles down his face, brown strands of hair flicking into his eyes. Francis huffs and puffs as he turns a corner. Only… how much more distance left to cover? Wait, how long is he supposed to keep running?

Struck by a sudden thought that he’s never going to last, Francis slows down to a trot. 

Copying his movements, Aquilo does as well. Francis turns to look at him and notices he’s hardly panting while he himself is gaping like a goldfish out of water. “Are you okay?” he asks as Francis bends over and rests his hands on his knee, sucking in deep lungfuls of air.

“Fine,” he gasps out in between breaths.

Aquilo leans over as if to check the expression on his face. He waits until Francis has caught his breath, then asks, “Ready to continue?”

“...okay.”

“It gets easier,” Aquilo says with a little shrug. “One, two, three, let’s go.”

Francis takes off running once again. He tries to remember what Aquilo advised him on: _pace yourself._ So, he doesn’t break into a fast run like he does when he’s got nothing better to do around the house. He tries to keep himself at a jog even though he’s itching to go faster. That’s right. He can conserve stamina this way or something.

Francis has to stop again after five minutes, collapsing ungratefully on the park bench. “Catch,” is the only warning he gets before his water bottle is flung at him. He manages to keep it still after juggling it for a few moments. Aquilo looks away, slightly awkward, as Francis takes a long swig. In fact, he doesn’t seem to know what to look at. His blue eyes are trained on the pavement as he rocks back and forth on his feet.

“Do you… need to drink?” Francis asks, trying to make conversation.

“Later,” is Aquilo’s short reply.

Francis looks at Aquilo, at a loss of what to do. Maybe it’s all the running sapping his energy. He’s not usually this quiet. Sucking in another deep breath, he stands up again.

“You ready?”

“Ready.”

Francis spends what seems like forever like this, stopping and starting, alternating between taking a break and failing at fitness. 

So focused is he on his task of _breathing_ that for a moment Francis doesn’t realise that there’s empty space next to him. When he finally does, he stops, gasping, whirling around to find Aquilo. 

He’s approximately a hundred meters away, staring at a poster outside a shop. 

Francis jogs over despite his aching muscles protesting against everything. Aquilo seems to jump at that. When he turns to face him, Francis notices that his flushed face seems to have gone a little pale.

“Sorry, I was just checking out - never mind,” he says quickly, stepping back sharply.

“Eh? What’s this?” Francis leans closer to check. 

“I - ah no no -”

Francis remains blissfully unaware of Aquilo outright pawing at him in his desperation. “Nine-cheese pizzas?” he asks, oblivious to the dying sounds Aquilo is making.

After a few moments, he utters an embarrassed, “Y-yeah.”

“They make those?” Francis is pressing his face up against the wall in barely restrained excitement now. “ _Nine_? That’s a lot!”

“I know this store. They make cheese crusts as well. So… ten?” Aquilo looks like he wants to join Francis in his activities but doesn’t want to be a nuisance. Hastily, Francis removes his face from the wall. 

“Ten!?” he gasps as he wipes his mouth on his sleeve.

“Who’s the bloke that thought of this? He deserves a raise.” Affected by Francis’s enthusiasm, the brunet sees Aquilo crack a genuine smile. “Come on. The guy just saw a normal pizza, and just thought to put _even more_ cheese on it. That’s wild.”

“Can we eat it?” Trying to stop his mouth watering, Francis pretty much hugs Aquilo’s left arm, tugging it back and forth, staring up at Aquilo with a pleading gaze. “Can we can we can we can we -”

“I… don’t have the money.”

“Oh! Money’s no problem,” says Francis, nodding his head and smiling. “Please? I’m tiiireed and I want some lemonade.”

Aquilo checks the time on his phone. “You know what? You’re right. It’s noon. Let’s go.”

Francis cheers, pumping one hand in the air… only to blink in confusion as Aquilo high fives it. “Uh. What?”

“...oh, that wasn’t a… wasn’t a high five, huh.” Aquilo coughs, ducking his head and escaping into the pizza place. The cheery jingle signals his hasty retreat.

Slowly, Francis lowers his arm, staring after where Aquilo has just left. Actually… that’s pretty funny. Francis finds his smile breaking into a fit of giggles. He can’t remember why he was so scared of Aquilo again. Turns out he’s a nice guy after all. Running a hand through his sweat-mussed hair, Francis follows Aquilo inside, breathing a sigh of relief at the cool air.


	5. Chapter 5

“Hi, Zephyr.”

Zephyr jerks briefly, whipping her head round to see just who said that - oh, it’s the curly-haired girl with dark eyes that shine silver and a smile that brightens everyone’s day. “Hello, Cherry,” she greets politely, before she goes back to staring im the mirror. She squints, leaning closer to get a better view.

“I just came in here to wash my hands,” Cherry says as she waves frantically at the tap. “I ate some fruit this morning,” she continues, opting to just hold her hands still. Water rushes out finally.

“Is that why your name is Cherry?” Zephyr half-jokes. _Hmm, I think I should have put some blush on today._ She’s looking a bit too pale for her own taste.

“No, it’s because Cherry comes from Cheryl and I was a weirdo kid, but I think I’ve come to like it anyway. So it’s not all bad.” Cherry finishes washing her hands after going through all seven steps of handwashing. She fidgets a bit, glancing at Zephyr before she wanders over the hand dryer machine. 

“I think it’s a nice nickname,” Zephyr says over the loud whooshing sounds.

Cherry appears once more beside Zephyr and flicking her hands at the sink. Several drops of water splash into the basin. Zephyr looks at her in confusion. Cherry clears her throat and nods at Zephyr. “Yeah, thank you. And I think Zephyr is a pretty name too!”

Zephyr feels her cheeks flush, placing her hands behind her back. “Oh, no, really, it’s… um,” she stammers. It’s what exactly? Not that special? Of course it is. Her usual response of _it’s nothing_ doesn’t exactly apply here either. Zephyr ducks her head, thinking, _Well, I guess I won’t need the makeup now._ Cherry… certainly seems to have a way with words.

“What are you doing, anyway?” Cherry glances at Zephyr curiously. 

Relieved, Zephyr thanks her mentally, before she patiently responds, “I was checking my makeup.” Glancing back in the mirror, she leans in, pushing her dark bangs out of her face and observing her whole face. “I’ve tried putting on some purple eyeshadow today, but I think black suits me better.”

Cherry puts her face way too close to hers, frowning and trying to look at what she’s describing. Shocked, Zephyr jerks away from her. Oblivious, Cherry asks, “You were wearing eyeshadow all this time?”

“Yes.”

“Oh? Really? I couldn’t tell to be honest.” Apparently, she’s decided that pressing her nose against the mirror is a rather uncomfortable experience. Cherry pulls back and uses some water to wipe the fog off the bathroom mirror.

“I’m not surprised,” Zephyr says, watching Cherry notice a dirty spot in the corner and rub at it with increasing intensity. “My mother helped me put it on once, and I decided I liked it. I’ve been practicing for a while now, but I still don’t match up to her skills, obviously. Still, I think it’s a nice touch,” she says, touching her index finger to the corner of her eye.

“I think so too. Makes you look super grown up.” Cherry stops in her scrubbing of the bathroom mirror to grin at Zephyr, leaning almost comically forward over the row of basins. “Purple is good, I think. It’s more visible.”

“Oh?”

“If you like that sort of thing, I mean. I know my mom likes the subtle look.” Cherry places one hand on her hip and scratches her chin with the other, frowning exaggeratedly as she checks Zephyr over. “I think dark colours suit you. Have you tried blue?”

“Eh?” Zephyr blinks. She hadn’t known - hadn’t expected - this from the curly-haired girl. Not when Aquilo’s constant descriptions of her included ‘hair that vaguely resembles that of the pubic region’ and Iggy’s prior experiences had a particularly stand-out example of a bunch of Barbie dolls all wearing incredibly mismatching outfits. 

_But I suppose,_ Zephyr reasons with herself, _the cropped jacket and jeans she’s wearing are pretty nice choices. Maybe it isn’t fair to her. The twins haven't seen her in so long, after all._ Out loud, she replies, “I can try that, thanks.”

“Oh. You’re actually taking my suggestion?” Cherry seems thrilled at that. As they exit the bathroom together, she swings one hand over Zephyr’s shoulder. Zephyr doesn’t flinch away, although she knows she’s sporting an awkward grin. “Can you teach me sometime?” Cherry asks as she helps Zephyr hobble over a raised bump in the grass, letting go of her at this point.

“Oh? You want… me? To teach you?” Zephyr waves both hands at her in slight distress. “I’m afraid that’s a little… that isn’t really a good idea. I’m still a beginner after all and I might teach you the wrong thing, or something.”

“But it’ll be fun, right?” Cherry’s easy confidence has Zephyr almost jealous. Just how sure she is in herself, how she doesn’t hesitate before saying anything to her while Zephyr needs to second guess every single word she utters. And apparently, this extends to experiments as well.

“I’m only really good at the basics,” Zephyr still tries to protest, albeit less intensely.

“Well, I’m good at nothing, so you’ve got me there.” Cherry laughs. “My mom got me these clothes, and I’m still crap at colour matching.”

“Eh? Eh?” For some reason, Zephyr feels some sort of disappointment, but it’s quickly replaced by amusement, then maybe… pride? _Oh no, that’s probably not good…_ “I think you look nice, actually.”

“Pfftt.” Cherry snorts, but she looks pleased nonetheless. “That doesn't really count. I’m just putting on black and white since it sorta matches my hair. And I don't know what to do with my hair either.”

“I don't do anything with my hair, except for tying it up when I’m exercising.”

“Already pretty good,” Cherry jokes. “So, will you?”

 _I’m deflecting again,_ Zephyr realises. It makes her feel… almost guilty. Maybe it’s why she squirms and replies, “Um… alright.”

“Great! Thanks!” Zephyr squeaks as she feels a harsh clap on her back. Cherry’s grin has just a smidgeon of mischief in it. “And if all else fails - honestly, I think you’re pretty good, I don't think it will - at least we’ll have some fun! Sounds good?”

Now, Zephyr returns Cherry’s smile. It’s hard not to, when the other girl’s enthusiasm is so tangible Zephyr feels like she could soak in it the way one would sunbathe at the beach. _She’s right,_ Zephyr convinces herself. _That’s a good way to go about things, anyway. Maybe I’ll pick something up from her as well._

Cherry asks Zephyr to go for lunch, and without hesitation this time, she agrees. The two walk towards the canteen, talking animatedly (though it’s more on Cherry’s part.) 

“So you don't think I look too pale?” 

“Nah, you look normal. I guess all that sports stuff made you forget people don't walk around flushing all the time.” 

“Aren’t you an athlete as well?” 

“I guess so. I’m super tanned, though. How _is_ your skin so white?” 

“I’m not sure. Maybe you should try visiting an indoor stadium sometime. There’s one near my house with a large pool to boot. I really like going there on weekends.” 

“Hm, maybe you’re right. Wanna go sometime?” 

“Of course.” 


	6. Chapter 6

“Hello,” says Aquilo as he takes a seat next to Taro. His voice is deep and has bit of an British-y sound to it, Taro notes, but he can't quite place the accent.

“H-hello,” Taro says rather eloquently, and fidgets. (Gracefully, of course.)

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah.” Taro sticks his tongue out. “The syrup was awful. I wish they could have given me pills instead.” _And I wish I didn’t need to burden my parents further..._

“Well, I'm glad you're back at school.”

Taro nods, unsure of what else to say. The blond’s large, imposing presence scares him, though he knows he means no harm.

Judging by the way he rubs his arm awkwardly, Taro’s getting more and more convinced that Aquilo couldn't harm him even if he wanted to, despite his physical prowess. Taro’s no slouch himself, after all.

“How long did you know Francis?” Aquilo asks quietly, still not looking Taro directly in the eye.

Taro can't help but stare. “Why do you ask?” Subconsciously, he casts his eyes around until he finally finds Francis in the near distance, laughing and talking with the rest of their bandmates. Even clad in perspiration and exercise gear as he is, he still doesn't appear to be dying, which is a huge improvement. Taro’s proud of him.

“I'm just curious. You two seem really close,” Aquilo comments.

Francis suddenly makes eye contact with him, and smiling, he waves. Taro returns the gesture, feeling warm inside. Though he was (and still is) reluctant himself, with the introduction of their own music passion project, he's incredibly happy that Francis is able to meet new friends. 

Maybe Francis had been lonely, too.

“We’re classmates,” he explains to Aquilo. “Technically, we've been together since the start of the school year.”

“Ah, I see,” Aquilo says in a manner that sounds like he's witnessing something beautiful happen. “It's just you… you didn't seem too thrilled to join.”

“I wasn't,” Taro says, and laughs. “All of them together convinced me, though. I guess I want to help.”

“That makes two of us, then,” Aquilo says, resigned but amused.

Taro’s head snaps up. “You too?” he asks eagerly, perhaps a little too eagerly. Finally, someone understood the trials and tribulations of horrible, horrible social interaction!

“Yeah. I'm just a lowly football player,” Aquilo jokes, something of a smile on his lips. “Literally the only reason they want me here is because Iggy and I are related.”

“I don't know if that's the case, but your training from hell certainly made us shape up,” Taro says, his eyes glistening with mirth.

“That's only cause you guys are all potato sacks. Seriously!” Aquilo huffs and crosses his arms in a playful manner. “Oh well, I suppose I can't sing and I can't dance and I can't compose, so there’s that.”

“But it's okay, right? I can't do any of those things, either.”

“You can sing,” Aquilo says in a tone that highly suggests he thinks Taro might have sustained some brain damage in his youth.

“I can sing, and you're a nasty drill sergeant,” Taro teases him, smiling. “See? We're unstoppable.”

“Damn right. In fact, I have a very important duty to attend to.” Aquilo flashes Taro a grin and a peace sign, before stomping into the middle of their bandmates and barking, “Get your asses up and run three rounds! Now!”

They stand up, several groaning in pain or protest. Aquilo leads their ragtag little group past Taro, and when their eyes meet, Taro gives him a wink. Caught by surprise, Aquilo visibly flusters, his expression shy, and Taro’s struck by a fleeting, faint thought.

Aquilo looks cute when he's smiling.


	7. Chapter 7

Taro leans back in the seat of the restaurant. The cool air dusts his lightly tanned skin. He heaves a sigh and places his hand over his stomach. He hadn’t realised there were student discounts outside. This could be a useful tidbit for the future. He wipes his mouth with a napkin as his friends continue to chat and eat their meals. Thirsty, he takes a sip of his water. Today’s been a good day: even Francis has made substantial progress in his training. Taro smiles as he watches the other boy eagerly dig into his steak.

“Taro, you finished eating really fast. Must have been really hungry, huh?” Cherry remarks as she stuffs another piece of her fish in her mouth. 

Caught off-guard, Taro can only smile back in what he hopes is a genuine-looking smile. It’s true that this is the fullest he’s felt in days. However, now Taro’s starting to regret spending six dollars on this ‘carbonara pasta’. It had indeed been delicious, though, and Taro justifies it to himself as being a rare treat. _I could have gotten a meal at school for half the price,_ he thinks to himself as he opens up his ragged, patched-up wallet. There’s only one tiny silver coin left. _It’s okay. I can make it up by buying a bowl of plain rice tomorrow,_ he thinks as he zips it back up.

“You know, if you ever need it, I can help,” comes the whisper.

Taro looks up to find the large green eyes of Francis looking right at him. The ambient light of the restaurant gives them a twinge of gold. Shaking his head, Taro replies, “I-I… that would be difficult, it’s not necessary…” He can’t possibly ask that of someone. He can’t get his poor innocent friend to pay all his bills for him. That feels nasty, and dirty, like he’s taking advantage of such a kind soul. 

Unfortunately, Francis does not seem to have gotten this hint, so Taro desperately hopes someone will change the subject. Francis opens his mouth again, about to speak, when Iggy hesitantly pushes his plate away. 

“You’re not gonna finish that?” Aquilo asks, still sipping on his tea.

“I’d like to,” he says, with an apology on the tip of his tongue, “but the portions are so big…”

Aquilo shrugs dismissively. “Okay, then. Save your stomach for the ice cream later.”

Taro can’t describe why his heart sinks at that. _He can’t finish it but he can order ice cream for later?_ Taro thinks. For a moment, for a just a moment, he feels blinded by how _unfair_ it is. He finds himself muttering, “What a waste,” before he can stop the words from tumbling out.

Iggy looks up. “Did you say something?” He looks surprised.

Taro clenches his fists under the table. Visions are running past him now: the village, children with shining dark hair and tanned skin just like him. The figure with visible ribs that stares back at him everytime he looks in a mirror, disguised by an oversized, patchy shirt with stains all over that he excuses as being part of the pattern. Then, the worst one of them all…

Taro tries to clear his throat as quietly as possible. He takes another sip of water to calm himself down. “I-Iggy,” he starts, and then for a moment after Iggy looks at him questioningly, anxiety crashes over him. Taro swallows. “If you… don’t want it anymore, can I… finish it?”

What is he thinking? This is totally inappropriate to ask what is basically a stranger. And judging by the look of complete confusion on the redhead’s dark features… Taro can feel a deep flush coming to engulf his entire body. He can feel Francis’s eyes on him, and his back prickles self-consciously.

Cherry breaks their awkward silence with a laugh. “You really do eat a lot, don’t you?” she asks, dark eyes shining with mirth. “And you’re still so thin! How do you do it?”

“He’s really strong as well,” Aquilo remarks, giving Taro a brief look of admiration before he covers it up by gulping down more of his tea.

“You’ll have to tell us what you do to keep so fit,” Zephyr adds, looking impressed. She’s sitting right next to him, so Taro is perfectly aware where she’s aiming glances at. “I still have a bit of belly fat I’d like to lose,” she comments.

“Where?” Aquilo asks in a tone that implies he thinks Zephyr is exaggerating colossally. 

“I’m fat for my family’s standards.”

Cherry flaps one arm around as she wipes her mouth with a napkin. “No way! You’re already thinner than me! If you’re fat, what am I?”

“You already have such a small frame,” Iggy adds. “Is that really necessary?”

“No way, that’s just because of genetics. It doesn’t mean anything!”

Taro just chuckles awkwardly, because he figures he needs to at least give some sort of acknowledgement. He isn’t too keen hearing the others talk about stuff like this, though… not when he isn’t thin by choice. Taro pulls at his sleeves, trying to obscure the corded muscles in his arms, developed from years and years of farm work. He’s gotten a bit soft recently, but Taro still has no problems keeping up with Aquilo’s rough training. 

Still, though, as his fingers trail down to his stomach, Taro wants to voice the thought that his supposedly attractive abs aren’t because he’s trying to show off. He’s in desperate need of proper meals, especially in this past year when his voice has begun deepening and his stomach seems to have expanded to become a bottomless pit. Taro longs to sample some of this ‘ice cream’, but he’s heard it makes you thirsty, and do refills of water cost extra?

Taro is jerked from his thoughts when Iggy slides the plate of quarter-uneaten squid ink pasta towards him. “You… uh… t-they’re right. I think. M-maybe you should eat more, I-I don’t mind if you wanna… take this,” Iggy stammers, then slaps a hand over his mouth, looking extremely embarrassed.

“Yeah. You _do_ look a little too thin,” Cherry mumbles around a mouthful of food. Waving her spoon around (and making Aquilo duck out of her way), she looks meaningfully at Francis. “What do you think?”

It’s then that Taro realises that the brunet chatterbox has been strangely silent. Francis, for his part, swallows the last of his bubble tea before replying, “I… uh… I wanna be as strong as him someday.”

Despite himself, Taro feels a pleased flush at the thought that maybe someone isn’t too turned off by his skeletal structure. It’s not healthy at all. Taro has seen the dangers firsthand. To the girl beside him, he cautions, “It’s not good to be too thin.” This slips out of his mouth before he actually realises what he’s saying.

“Then why are you?” Cherry asks immediately. Then she lets out a yelp. Taro snaps out of his sudden state of petrification long enough to catch Aquilo giving Cherry a disapproving look. Beside them, Iggy bites his lip. His arms are moving. Taro guesses he’s nervously wringing his hands together under the table.

Taro feels sweat trickle down his back and gather on his palms. He’s let something slip again. Now he’ll have to face their judgement. He swallows thickly. He stares at the pasta. He was already full before, but now his appetite is all gone. Taro doesn’t know what to do, but he knows he can’t waste this food. He can feel the concern radiating from Francis, and… and Zephyr?

When he looks over, Zephyr doesn’t look like she’s judging him. Instead, her features are soft and relaxed, but her eyebrows are furrowed in concern. She’s definitely caught onto Taro’s sudden tenseness. Taro curses mentally. Does she think he’s being defensive? Or that he has something to hide?

 _It’s not like that. It’s not like that at all,_ Taro pleads in his mind to no one at all. What does he even want now? His feet feels frozen to the ground and his hands can’t move or anything. There’s this overwhelming urge to bolt, but it’s not a good idea right now, he’d still need to meet them in school and -

Francis leans over and whispers, “Do you want me to talk?”

Frozen, it’s all Taro can do to shake his head. He’s shaking now. His hands subconsciously travel downwards, hugging himself.

“...are you okay?” Aquilo finally asks, concern glinting in his eyes.

Taro nods. Or finds himself nodding. He can’t seem to control himself anymore. His heart is racing and anxiety roots him to the spot. He wants out. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. He wants to go home, and talk to his parents. Then his eyes flick over to the pasta again. 

_Jirou…_

Taro feels his eyes water. _No! Not now!_ It doesn’t work, though. Overwhelmed and feeling like something’s choking him, Taro clasps a hand over his mouth, looking toward Francis for support.

Carefully, Francis places a hand on Taro’s shoulder. Taro finds himself leaning into the touch to steady himself. “Do you want to go to the bathroom?”

“Yes,” Taro answers in a broken voice. 

“I’ll go with you,” Francis offers kindly. And then Taro feels emotion pull and tug at his chest. Everything’s threatening to spill over, but he continues holding it in.

“Can I clear this?” 

Taro looks up. It’s a waitress, gesturing at the plate of pasta on his table. Out of habit, he shakes his head and picks up a fork despite his lost appetite. No. He won’t waste it. A meal like this isn’t guaranteed for him in the next few days. Best to eat up now.

As the waitress leaves, Taro gloomily scoops up the cold, limp, pasta and chews on its length. Now that his whirlwind of emotions are over, he feels embarrassment creep up his spine at the looks the others are sure to be giving him. He finishes the pasta in record time and continues sitting hunched over his seat.

_Pathetic._

All because of him and his ridiculous outburst, the others have gone silent. Every bite of Iggy’s cold pasta is accompanied by their silent stares. It’s weird having so many people look at you eating. Taro feels like crying for some reason now.

“Do you still want to go to the toilet?”

Still staring at nothing, Taro nods. This time, Francis stands up and leads Taro to the bathroom with a warm hand. As they go, Taro hears Aquilo muttering, “We’ve paid, right?” and once again feels red-hot shame race through his veins. 

_I’m nothing._

Francis manages to locate the bathroom. He drags Taro inside, encouraging him gently to go to the sink. “Your eyes are red. Come on, wash your face,” he coaxes. 

Taro stares unblinkingly. Dark purple stares back at him. He looks terrible. Taking Francis’s advice, he adjusts the water to the coldest setting possible and splashes it all over his face.

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

Taro’s heart twists. “No. Maybe later.”

“They’ll ask you, Takkun.” Francis’s tone is sad. He stands with his feet together and his both hands laced firmly behind his back. “If not now, then tomorrow. You wanna hang out here first? Should I tell them to back off?”

“...I just want them to drop it.”

“I know, but they just worry, Takkun. If you really don’t want them to say anything I’ll tell them, but…” Francis bites his lip. “It’s going to be awkward, right? It’s going to be awkward if you drag it out more and more for too long. And stuff.”

Taro shakes his head furiously, clutching his hands to his chest. “I don’t want to!”

“...okay. It’s okay, Takkun.” Francis allows Taro to cling onto his sleeves, even though they’re luxuriously soft and probably expensive and worth more than Taro is alone. Taro doesn’t sob; tears trickle out of his eyes, but he tries his best to put a clamp on his heaving shoulders and chest and the gasps he emits. Francis lets him stay there for a while, placing his hand on Taro’s back. 

It’s probably about ten minutes before Aquilo enters the restroom, looking rather stricken. “They’re… uh…” Aquilo scuffs his feet on the ground awkwardly. “Well, we’re leaving, since it’s rush hour and they’re kicking us out, and, uh…” He trades glances with Francis, who shakes his head briefly. At a loss of what to do, he looks back and forth between Taro and Francis. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” he says as he leaves.

Taro is not ready.


	8. Chapter 8

Francis is being oddly serious for once, Taro knows, and if his stupid little outburst hadn’t clued the others in to his situation, this certainly will.

It’s extremely odd, to have this bouncing, yapping puppy hold its head down low, dragging its feet as it walks. Francis stays at the back of their little group, hovering close to Taro, as if afraid he’ll snap again. Taro keeps staring at his feet as he keeps walking. One after the another, step by step… his shoes are in terrible condition. Taro can feel every rock under his feet. The sole of his shoes have fallen somewhere a long time ago.

Out of his peripherals, Taro notices four heads together, as if discussing something. Then, Zephyr glances back over her shoulder. Alarmed, Taro immediately dips his head back down. Maybe he did it fast enough and she didn’t see.

His hopes are dashed when out of his peripherals, he notices the girl drop back to stand beside him. Taro wants to stop moving and just run away in some other direction, but he knows he can’t possibly avoid it forever.

So when Zephyr asks, “Do you want to talk about it?” Taro accepts it. The harder part is getting up the courage to do it. He frowns, pursing his lips before he runs his tongue over the dry skin. He’d told Francis and come out none the worse for wear, and he honestly doesn’t _mind_ letting anyone else know. He’d thought being a simple country villager would have driven others away from him, but Francis had done all that he could to discredit that notion. Taro feels like most have figured it out anyway - especially the other Japanese students, who don’t comment on his Okinawan accent.

But still, something makes him hesitate. He doesn’t know how they’ll react. Will they cast him out of the group? Will Francis have to choose? He doesn’t want any of that to happen, not when he’s just started feeling like he’s finally got somewhere to belong…

“Want me to say something?” Francis whispers again. Taro’s heart lurches uncomfortably. It’s plain cowardice, but Taro just doesn’t and can’t deal with this right now. This anxiety is too much for him to bear and he’s just tired. He’s got a long day of exercise behind him and now all Taro wants to do is go home. So, with this in mind, Taro just nods tiredly, hoping Francis will understand.

Taro feels a surprisingly strong hand squeeze his shoulder in comfort. Despite, or maybe because, of everything, Taro finds himself leaning into the touch.

“Taro… is…” Taro can tell that in spite of having volunteered now Francis has no idea what is the most sensitive way to put this. Francis can’t exactly just blurt out “Taro is a poor Okinawan midget”, and Taro’s heart warms at the concern, even if now the brunet is obviously struggling. Finally, Francis settles with, “Taro’s family needs… uh, what do they call it… financial aid,” saying the last two words so awkwardly Taro can pretty much hear the quotation marks in the air.

Francis doesn’t say Taro’s from a simple village, or that he’s a refugee hiding in plain sight, or the reason for his strength is countless hours clocked in at his tiny farm back on Okinawa, and Taro is infinitely grateful.

“And I’m sorry for the outburst just now,” he says. His chiming in surprises both his schoolmates. Taro looks down after having caught one glance of their surprised expressions. “It’s just… a long time ago, my brother passed away.” _From hunger,_ is the implication. Taro knows it’s only half-true - Jirou had died from illness quickened by starvation and lack of medicine - but figures that he won’t burden his friends with the knowledge. It had been horrible, watching him waste away day by day with nothing the young, scared little Taro could do… except work harder, and harder. Even the paltry few extra coins he had earned hadn’t been able to save Jirou in the end.

 _At least I’m immune now,_ Taro thinks, brushing over the mark on his shoulder. It’s a hollow comfort, but Taro knows Jirou would never have wanted his family to suffer. This way he can keep the memory of his brother alive. Sometimes, at night, Taro wonders if Jirou’s spirit has managed to follow them over the sea.

Francis’s only response is another squeeze of his shoulder, apparently too shocked to respond. Zephyr bows her head, saying, “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Taro replies. “I’m alright now.”

“Thank you for being willing to talk to us.” Zephyr nods at him. “I’ll go now to call the others off your back.”

As she makes to leave, Taro’s hands shoot out to grasp her arm. “You won’t tell them, right?” he pleads.

Zephyr shakes her head, making an effort to quirk her lips upwards. “I won’t. It’s not my place to say so. The only thing I’ll be telling them is that you’re okay and not to bother you, unless you’re alright with me divulging information. Or perhaps you’d like Francis to help you?”

Taro considers it for a moment. His gaze flicks in front. Then he realises that everyone in front of him has stopped walking and likely have realised he’s holding onto Zephyr like a sad little toddler. That certainly won’t escape their attention. With a sigh, he steels himself, saying, “It’s okay. I’ll tell them myself.”

.

Taro comes home to a mountain of texts from his friends.

Taro Oshiro had told his friends of his humble origins and has not died.

In fact, almost instantly when he said it he’d been showered with apologies and warmth and fierce desires to help him out. He had expressed to them his desire to be treated no differently from any other classmate, and… they had agreed. Continuing to have a conversation about the most mundane thing, with the occasional attempt to draw him in as the only evidence they had taken his words to heart.

 _These are what friends will do,_ Francis had told him after they’d all each finally went their seperate ways for the day.

 _Perhaps that’s true,_ Taro thinks as he stares at the phone in his hand with an almost comically flabbergasted expression on his face.

 **Falala:** taro taro takkun tarokunnnn  
**Falala:** Yo tarokkun are you being soammed with 3927652 messages

In fact, Taro is.

 **CherryOnTop:** Hey dude im still really sorry about what i said i didnt mean it  
**CherryOnTop:** hey!!  
**CherryOnTop:** so i should totally bring you to lunch so i can make it up to uo  
**Aquilo:** Hello, Taro. I apologise if this is insensitive, but I have a link to the school’s Financial Assistance Scheme here. You can fill in the form, and it’ll cover the costs of the calculators, notes, and the tablet you’ll need in the future.  
**Iggy:** Hi i hope youre okay with this?  
**Iggy:** But i just want to say were rly happy you decided to trust us  
**Iggy:** hopefully thats okay. Pls tell me if its not and ill not do it again!  
**Zzzippy:** If you ever need some help, I heard the school counsellors are quite nice.  
**Zzzippy:** Of course, any of us would be quite willing to listen as well.

And in the group chat, they’ve kept their agreement. There are no particularly stand out references to Taro and his background. _They sympathise,_ Taro realises, but they won't pity me when I tell them not to. And by extension, that means that they, against all odds, _respect_ him and his decisions, as his own person. They know they don't need to coddle him, not when Taro’s a year older than them physically, and probably ten years older mentally.

Nonetheless, for all his ‘maturity’, Taro still knows he’s sporting a stupidly big smile on his face as he thanks all of them individually.


End file.
